


Final Vigil

by little0bird



Series: Spring Returning [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Faith of the Seven, Gen, Nikolas knows about Jaime, Parent-Child Relationship, inappropriate reactions at funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-11 23:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19553167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little0bird/pseuds/little0bird





	Final Vigil

The woollen fabric was stiff with embroidery. Black suns and crescent moons wound alongside the edges of the long tunic. Brienne rubbed a finger over the stitches that formed a crescent moon. Unrelenting black upon black. She stood and shook it out, then lay it over the bed next to a pair of trousers and a pin worked in the shape of the House sigil. She stared at the black clothing while her ordinary brown roughspun and leather fell to the floor as she undid the laces, and then woodenly donned the trousers and stepped into the matching black slippers. She pulled the tunic over her arms and shoulders, fingers shaking as she fumbled with the unfamiliar fastenings.

‘Let me.’ Jaime pushed himself off the door frame and grasped Brienne’s wrist in his hand. He was dressed in black as well, but with only a small Tarth sigil embroidered on the left shoulder his doublet. She let her hands fall to her sides. He nudged her chin up a fraction of an inch and crossed one side of the tunic over the other, sliding the leather ribbons through their silver buckles on the opposite side.

‘I’m not ready for this,’ Brienne murmured. She swallowed and clenched her jaw, reaching for the sigil.

‘We never are.’ Jaime picked up the sword belt and wrapped it around her waist, winding it into a knot after he buckled it, then adjusted the angle of the hilt. He took the sigil from Brienne’s cold hand and pinned it to the front of her tunic at her throat, the silver shield glimmering against the black wool. Jaime stepped back and bowed from the waist. There was no hint of mockery or jest in it. ‘My lady.’

Brienne took in a slow, deep breath, then squared her shoulders and walked steadily out of the chamber, Jaime following. She faltered just once upon entering the sept, but continued resolutely on until her feet carried her to the end of the bier. Jaime stood next to her, their shoulders just touching. 

‘Mamma?’ 

Brienne turned. Nikolas stood framed by the light spilling into the dark sept from the corridor. ‘You should be in bed,’ she told him. 

Nikolas self-consciously tugged at the black jerkin he wore. ‘I want… I _should_ stand vigil as well.’ Brienne hesitated, but nodded. He was the heir now. Nikolas came to stand on her other side. She ran a hand over his hair, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

She wondered when he’d gotten so tall. The top of his head now reached the middle of Jaime’s chest. Nikolas would be able to look his parents in the eye soon enough. Her throat closed at the idea that one day he would stand vigil for either herself or Jaime. ‘ _Valar morghulis,_ ’ she murmured. 

‘ _Valar dohaeris,_ ’ Jaime responded. 

‘What does that mean?’ Nikolas asked quietly. 

‘All men must die and all men must serve,’ Jaime answered. 

‘Service to your people, your monarch, your lord.’ Brienne gave Jaime a sideways glance. ‘Your family.’

‘To the people you’re sworn to protect,’ Jaime added. ‘There will be times where the oaths you swear are at odds with one another. And then you have to choose.’

‘How?’ Nikolas craned his head around Brienne, his brows drawn together.

Jaime rocked on his heels and fixed his gaze on the steady flame of a fat candle. ‘Take the Kingslayer, for example,’ he murmured. It hurt less to speak of it, with nearly forty years of distance. It seemed as if it all had happened to someone else. ‘He swore an oath when he was knighted to protect the innocent. He also swore an oath to defend and protect the Mad King Aerys Targaryen. King Aerys commanded him to kill his father, then ordered his pyromancer to set off the many barrels of wildfire he had hidden under King’s Landing.’

‘And _you_ decided to protect the innocent,’ Nikolas interjected. His parents’ heads swiveled in near unison and they both gaped at him. ‘I’ve known who you are for years.’ 

‘How did you find out?’ Jaime choked, stepping backward until the backs of his ankles bumped into a set of steps that led to an altar. He sat heavily on one step, feet stretched out in front of him. He felt sick, nausea threatening to overtake him. 

‘Arya Stark. When I was eight and we were at King’s Landing, Arya told you, “Jaime Lannister was said to have died.” She said you were a casualty of the Dragon Queen Daenerys Targareyan.’ Nikolas adjusted the sleeve of his shirt. ‘I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but I have overhead you and Uncle Tyrion talking about your father. Maester Embrose has a book, where he keeps information about all the major houses in Westeros. I looked up the Lannisters, because I knew that Uncle had once been a Lannister. Tywin Lannister had no acknowledged bastards. So I checked the other families that I knew had acknowledged bastards. Jon Snow was listed as one of Eddard Stark’s children, and Ramsay Bolton was listed as the legitimate heir of Roose Bolton, but he was born Ramsay Snow. Their fathers publicly recognized them. If you really were Tywin Lannister’s acknowledged bastard, there would have been a Jaime Hill.’ Nikolas paused, pulling at the collar of his jerkin. It felt unusually tight. ‘That’s when what Arya said began to make sense. You’re really Jaime Lannister.’ 

Brienne crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her son. ‘You are too clever for your own good.’

Nikolas laced his hands together and sidled to the steps and folded himself to sit next to his father. ‘Why did you forsake your oath to the Kingsguard?’ he asked carefully, keeping his eyes firmly on the toes of his boots. 

‘Which oath was I to keep?’ Jaime countered. ‘Had I kept my oath to the king, then untold thousands would have perished as a result of his paranoia, including him and me. Thousands upon thousands of innocent lives or one mad king?’ 

Brienne sank to Nikolas’ other side. ‘It cost your father a great deal.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about that when I killed Aerys Targaryen,’ Jaime said wryly. ‘I only thought how I didn’t want to die on the whims of a madman.’ He slid an arm across Nikolas’ shoulders. ‘I didn’t regret it. Not for a single second. Not even when my reputation was in tatters. I would do it again.’ 

‘You mustn’t tell anyone,’ Brienne cautioned. 

‘Not even Cwennie?’

‘Not even Cwen.’ Brienne smoothed a wayward lock of hair from Nikolas’ forehead. ‘It would cause problems for many other people if word got out.’

‘The least of which would be your mother and me,’ Jaime sighed. 

‘Who else knows?’ Nikolas asked.

‘Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, the king --’

‘The _king_ knows?’ Nikolas interrupted. 

‘Yes, he does,’ Brienne said. She glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Ser Davos and Lord Gendry.’

‘Ser Podrick,’ Jaime added. ‘And now you.’

‘That’s a lot of people to be in on a secret,’ Nikolas said doubtfully.

‘They’re the ones who either needed to know or knew from the beginning,’ Jaime told him. ‘Everyone else who might recognize me is dead.’ He gave Brienne a crooked grin, thinking of Edmure Tully. ‘Or not clever enough to look beyond clothing, sigils, and the addition of a beard,’ he said rubbing his jaw. ‘It helps that I wear your mother’s sigil. People who knew the Lannisters would never believe that one would readily consent to wear another sigil.’

‘But what if someone does?’ Nikolas persisted.

Jaime shifted on the hard stone. ‘The king would swear they are mistaken.’ He nodded at Brienne. ‘It’s for _her_ sake, really. Not mine.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the North remembers,’ Jaime intoned. ‘Your mother was Sansa’s sworn sword. Defended Winterfell and the Stark family.’

Nikolas yawned widely, belatedly covering his mouth with a hand, then slumped against Jaime. ‘Shouldn’t we be more dignified? Would Grandfather be angry that we’re not standing?

Brienne stifled a laugh. ‘No. He’d be more angry that we’re actually doing all the funeral rites, even if we have abbreviated them. He’d be even more put out that nobody’s drunk.’

Jaime unhooked a flask from his belt. ‘I can take care of that.’ He handed it to Brienne. ‘He made me promise on his deathbed to have a drink at his vigil.’ Brienne unstoppered it and passed the mouth of the flask under her nose. She grinned a little, tipped the flask up and took a swallow. She then gave it back to Jaime, who lifted the flask in a salute to Selwyn, then took a swallow himself. He met Brienne’s eyes over Nikolas’ head, and nodded at Nikolas inquiringly. She shrugged as if to say _why not_. Jaime pressed the flask into Nikolas’ hand. Nikolas took a cautious sip. ‘It’s cider!’ Nikolas exclaimed. Jamie took the flask back and took a drink. ‘I swore I would have a drink at the vigil. I never said what it would be.’ He passed it back to Brienne. ‘It wouldn’t do for us to have sore heads come morning.’

‘As if the septon needs another reason to disapprove,’ Brienne muttered darkly, before taking a swig and giving the flask back to Jaime. 

Jaime raised the flask. ‘To Ser Brienne of Tarth and Ser Jaime Lannister. Earning the disapproval of priggish septons all over Westeros. Until the end of our days.’

* * *

The funeral finally over, and Selwyn’s body interred with his ancestors, Brienne stood with Nikolas in the sept for the final rite, where Evenfall and Tarth would officially pass into Brienne’s keeping. Jaime stood off to the side with Davos, who attended as a lord of the Stormlands, and not in his capacity of Hand of the King. Brienne shot him look of exasperation as she knelt. She hadn’t wanted this particular ceremony, but the septon insisted, sermonizing that it would lend legitimacy to her becoming the Evenstar, to Nikolas assuming the role as heir. She’d assented to the rigamarole simply to make the bloody man cease his prattling. Brienne’s head bowed as the septon began to speak, more to hide her expression than out of piety. Seven drops of oil trickled over the crown of her head, then it was Nikolas’ turn. She heard him exhale strongly through his nose. He was every bit as skeptical of the Seven as his parents, but like them, went through the motions as necessary.

‘May the Light of the Seven bless you,’ the septon chanted. ‘Arise Lady Tarth, Lord Nikolas.’ Brienne rose to her full height, with only a slight grimace at the pain in her knees from the stone floor. The septon took her right hand Brienne had to force herself not to jerk away from the pillowy softness of the man’s hands. She felt something cold slip over her middle finger and glanced down.

She’d forgotten about the Evenstar, the ring that gave the Tarth lords their nickname. Her father only rarely wore it during her childhood, and never after Brienne had returned from the North. The oval, cabochon star sapphire glimmered with as deep a blue as the waters that surrounded Tarth. Brienne followed the septon out of the sept in a daze, Nikolas and Jaime falling into step behind her. Her fingers curled into a fist, and her other hand curved over it to hide the ring from view. The weight of the ring was alien and heavy. Her stomach lurched at the scent of food. They had arrived in the hall for the feast. ‘Please, excuse me for a moment,’ she murmured to the septon, before walking quickly out of the hall before she lost all control over her emotions. 

Jaime hadn’t missed the queer expression that had settled over Brienne’s face when the septon slid the ring onto her finger. ‘Nikolas.’ He clapped the boy on the back. ‘Do be so kind as to show Septon Wilhelm to his seat.’ He then added in an undertone, ‘To your mother’s left. You’re to sit on her right.’

Nikolas’ head whipped around. ‘But that’s your place.’

‘Not today it isn’t.’ Jaime lightly squeezed his son’s shoulder. ‘You’re the heir and I have no name,’ he reminded Nikolas. ‘Mmm?’

‘Yes, Papa.’

Jaime motioned with his head. ‘Go on, then.’ He wove his way through the crowd of people come to bid Selwyn Tarth farewell from this world. There were three places Brienne would have gone where she could expect to remain undisturbed -- their chamber, the armory, or the solar. He discounted the armory and their chamber due to the distance from the hall, so he went down the corridor to the solar, and tested the door. It was unbolted.

Brienne sat on the floor, hand clamped over her mouth, while she rocked back and forth. Jaime bolted the door, then crouched in front of her. ‘Brienne?’

She shook her head slowly and lifted her right hand. ‘Sapphires,’ she croaked, then threw her head back and laughed, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. ‘I told you there were no sapphires on Tarth,’ she gasped. She laughed even harder, hardly able to breathe. ‘There was one after all,’ Brienne crowed, pounding the floor with a fist. The room rang with her peals of laughter.

Jaime sat back, wrists resting on his knees. ‘ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about?’ he said incredulously. She nodded, tears streaming down her face. She wiped them carelessly away and fell onto her back, arms spread wide, chest heaving. ‘It was all I could think about once he put the ring on,’ Brienne explained. ‘It took everything I had to not laugh in the sept.’

‘You held it together admirably. Anyone would have thought you overcome by grief.’

Brienne took in a few deep breaths and sat up. ‘I should go back to the hall.’ She got her feet under her and stood. Jaime did the same, but with a grunt at the twinge in his own knees. He took her arm and turned her around, then briskly brushed the dust from her clothing. Jaime unbolted the door and put his hand on the latch. ‘Ready?’

‘No,’ Brienne admitted, but she swept through the door, head held high. _I’ll try to make you proud,_ she promised her father. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
